


Children of Baltigo

by SwampSpirit



Series: Burial at Sea [1]
Category: One Piece
Genre: Disabled Character, Fake siblings, Gen, Not A Fix-It, Sabo Centric, The Revolutionary Army (One Piece), badasses with chronic pain, gender shenanigans, koala centric, pirate koala, slavery in backstory, spy koala, spy sabo
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-03-14
Packaged: 2021-03-15 23:21:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 20,603
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29444007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SwampSpirit/pseuds/SwampSpirit
Summary: The explosion hits Sabo a bit harder. Koala joins the sun pirates a few years earlier.In this world, they don’t leave Baltigo for the first time as powerhouses fighting for freedom, they leave much more quietly. Scarred, deadly, and trained for espionage, they re-enter society as troubled young nobles Aven and Laurel Quince.(Sabo and Koala as revolutionary spies)
Relationships: Hack & Koala & Sabo (One Piece), Koala & Sabo (One Piece)
Series: Burial at Sea [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2162778
Kudos: 19





	1. Prologue - Dragon

**Author's Note:**

> I'm so excited to finally start posting this.   
> As always, thank you to the lovely LunaRubato for beta reading and also putting up with me. Go talk to her on twitter.  
> This prologue is a bit short, but I'm posting a big chapter in like.... ten minutes.   
> <3  
> Thanks for reading. Hope this feeds all y'all who want more Sabo and/or Koala centric stuff.
> 
> WARNINGS: I'll try and warn as things come up (or warn that I'm not warning for things), but blanket warning for  
> -Graphic descriptions of violence and injuries, including violence to children  
> -Slavery in backstory  
> -Trauma reactions including PTSD, panic attacks, anger issues, and guilt issues

The boy had been broken when Dragon pulled him from the water. His blond hair had been matted with blood. His arm was barely attached and his eyes were glassy with shock. He looked like a broken doll, so heart-wrenchingly small and limp in Dragon’s hands.

Leading a revolution meant not fighting losing battles. He couldn’t throw his people’s lives away on whatever cause he wanted. It ripped him apart, to set his heart aside and follow his head, but he did it.

That said, Dragon was a bit stubborn about what he was willing to call a losing battle. This was a child who had damned his fellow nobles as Gray Terminal burned, who had, rather than stew in complacent hatred, chosen to raise a black flag and set out to sea alone. The boy was a fighter, and Dragon had wanted to give him a chance.

Maybe it was a bit personal. Because it was Goa burning, and, even if it was where he’d first seen the worst of the world, it was still his home. Because the boy was around the same age as his own boy, wherever Luffy was.

But mostly, he’d believed the kid had the will.

He’d slept for days and had spent a few more weeks drifting between his head injury and the morphine. Dragon hadn’t seen the boy himself. He didn’t have time for self-flagellating medical visits, but now the boy had come to him.

He’d clearly snuck out of bed. There was barely any child visible under all the bandages, and he was leaning on the wall for support, but Dragon wasn’t going to send him back like this. He had come here for a reason, and he deserved the respect he’d show any other recruit.

“Young Sabo, take a seat. What did you need?”

Sabo made his way to the seat, trying to hide his pain, though Dragon was sure it was immense. He’d seen what was under those bandages where cloth had fused into blackened skin.

“I heard you met me, Sir. Before I lost my memory. Do you- do you know anything about me?” Sabo asked, legs dangling off the chair.

Dragon rested his hand on his chin.

“Tell me, what do you know so far?”

The boy picked at his bandages.

“I’m from an island called Goa in the East Blue. My name is probably Sabo, and… I’m a noble, maybe.”

“You were.”

The boy’s face fell like he’d just gotten confirmation of a terminal diagnosis.

“You told me you were ashamed of being one of them,” Dragon told him. “But you shouldn’t be. Being born is not shameful. I saw true pain in you, a true desire to help those you’ve been told are less than you. You said you wanted to leave that place. And you did. You didn’t sit idle, you sailed for freedom, and they shot you down for it.”

“What if you’re wrong though? I can’t remember but… I have these horrible feelings, like I-”

He trailed off, staring at his toes. Sabo’s round face seemed built for wide grins, not these serious expressions. Dragon looked forward to seeing the boy smile someday, hopefully soon.

“You should not judge your character by echoes of memories from a hurt child. Besides, I am not concerned with who you were. I am concerned with who you are. If you want to be a good man, become one.”

Sabo looked at him directly now, and Dragon could see the fire in his eyes and steel in his spine.

“I want to fight. What you’re doing here, I want to help.”

“I’m sure you will be a great asset, but the first thing you need to do is focus on your recovery.”

“The thing is...” Sabo said, looking awkwardly to the side again, “the doc says that… well, I can’t move my left arm still, and he says I have to get a cane too, ‘cuz the bastard messed up my hip.”

“And?”

“So I might not be much good in a fight.”

“If Red-Hair can be an Emperor with one arm, I’m sure you can achieve some level of competence. Besides, we are not an army of brutes. Revolutions are won and lost on information and supplies. Our smugglers, cooks, and informants are no less important than our combat based members.”

“I don’t want to be a cook though,” the boy said, chin jutting out stubbornly.

“I actually had another suggestion in mind for you. The medical team says you’re a bright boy, and, as much as you may not like your upbringing, you may be able to use what you’ve learned for something good,” Dragon smiled, trying not to show too much tooth. “Tell me, boy, what would you think of training as a spy?”


	2. 1. Soroka, Sabo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Told ya I'd have the second chapter up in ten minutes. See you next week!

“Roka, these are barely shucked. We aren’t having stringy corn. No going out until you do it properly.”

“I told everybody I’d be there for Hana’s team today!” If he was late, they’d probably start without him again.

“I swear- Why can’t you be more like Koala? _ She  _ never complains about her chores or sneaks off with friends.”

Koala was making bread in the side of the kitchen, looking, as always, way too cheerful about it.

Soroka’s life pretty much sucked.

His little sister Kakapo was three now, so everybody had to always run around after her. He had been really excited when he found out Auntie’s kid was coming home. Auntie always seemed sad, and Koala was around his age. She had lost her dad too, and it would be nice to have a friend who knew what that felt like.

Every adult thought Koala was perfect. The teachers told her how smart she was even though she didn’t know how to read. (And all she ever wanted to read was the newspaper!) Koala did all her chores, and then more chores because she ‘wanted to’. ‘Koala’s so cute’, ‘Koala’s such a good girl’, ‘Koala works so hard’.

Koala was weird! 

Nobody seemed to know what had really happened to her. Adults all just said she’d ‘been away’. 

He’d always known that Auntie’s husband had been killed by pirates, and her daughter, Koala, had been missing. Then she’d been brought back by a famous fishman pirate. Mom got mad when he asked about it. Even other adults tried to get more information, asked him if he knew ‘where Koala-chan had been’. But only Mom and Auntie did.

The first time he’d realized there was something weird about Koala, like really weird, he’d been going to use the bathroom in the middle of the night. He’d heard this soft shuffling sound in the kitchen. He thought maybe it was a rat, but, when he tiptoed down the hallway, he saw Koala scrubbing the stairs in the dark.

She’d been smiling at nothing, teeth shining in the moonlight.

He’d told his mom, but she’d brushed it off.

“Koala-chan has trouble sleeping. If cleaning makes her feel better, leave her to it. Some women just stress clean. Koala’s mom does it too.”

But Soroko had seen Auntie Kea stress clean, beating laundry like it had personally offended her. Auntie didn’t get up in the middle of the night and clean. She didn’t smile while she cleaned, and she certainly didn’t smile like that, with wide, empty eyes.

“How would Koala sneak off with friends? She doesn’t have friends to sneak off with,” Soroka said. Which was true, even if he felt a bit bad the second he said it.

“Don’t be rude!” his mom scolded. “Koala hasn’t had time to make friends. She only just got back from… her trip. You should be making her feel included!”

“Everybody knows it wasn’t a trip, Mom. She got kidnapped by fishmen.”

“No I didn't,” Koala said softly. She didn’t look over, but she’d stopped smiling and her quiet voice was firm. “The Sun Pirates were very good people.”

His mom huffed.

“I don’t know how I raised such a rude boy. When you finish up, you can take Koala to play too. She could use a break.”

“I don’t mind, Auntie Quoll.”

“I know, dear, but children need to play.”

Soroko grimaced. It was kind of his fault, but Koala was so embarrassing. He returned to his task, accidentally breaking open corn kernels as he stripped the silk with a bit too much vigor. It wasn’t fair.

Once the corn was shucked to his mother’s satisfaction, they headed outside. Koala was smiling, but Soroko got the impression she wasn’t any happier about this than he was. A lot of the kids tried to be nice to her, but she always seemed a little stressed out by people trying to be nice.

“I won’t tell our moms if you don’t come.”

“I’ll come. If it’s not too much trouble.”

Of course, because Mom had said so, and Koala was perfect.

“Whatever. Just don’t be weird. Have you played Pirates and Marines before?”

Koala shook her head.

“It’s not hard. The Marines put all the treasure wherever, as long as it’s easy to see it and not too close together, and then the pirates try and steal it and carry it out of bounds. Marines can’t leave bounds, so once treasure’s out of bounds, it’s safe, but if the Marines loop a rope around a pirate, they’re captured and have to go to the prison.”

“What’s the treasure?”

“We use some rocks we painted green.” He could see his friends over the hillside and jumped in excitement. They hadn’t started yet. “Hey guys!”

They greeted him, and they didn’t seem too upset about Koala being there, mostly confused.

“My mom said to bring her,” Soroka explained. 

“Well, she has to be a pirate,” Ella announced. “Everybody has to be a pirate their first few games.”

Marines and Pirates was fun, but the pirates pretty much always lost. The pirate team was always smaller since only a few weirdos wanted to be the bad guys, and it was pretty easy for the Marine team to pick them off and then guard the last few ‘treasures’ in big groups.

“C’mon guys, let her be a Marine,” Soroka said awkwardly. “She’s littler than us.”

It was only fair for new people to have to take a turn as a pirate, but it wasn’t that Koala was younger. Her Dad had been killed by pirates. Making her pretend to be one felt mean.

“So? Eleven isn’t that little,” Ella said. “She has to be a pirate.”

“I dunno. Maybe we should play something else,” Louise said nervously, probably making the same connection as Soroka.

“No way. We’re not changing games because of Soroka’s dumb baby cousin!”

“It’s fine!” Koala said with a smile. “I want to be on the pirate team.”

“Are you sure?” Soroka asked. Koala really didn’t like it when people argued or yelled. She hated crying even more. Mom thought she was just nice, but Soroka saw how much duller her eyes got when Kakapo was crying.

“Yeah. I’ve met more pirates than Marines anyways.”

There was an awkward silence, but Hana took charge.

“Alright. Louise, Pefta, Bulgur, Cider it’s your turn to be pirates too. Ella, Turi, Soroko, Bolt, Cleave, Wichop you’re on my team. Remember, no punching or biting, Marines can’t touch the treasure, and pirates can’t throw the treasure. If you’re caught, you have to drop what you’re holding.”

This was gonna be too easy. Louise was fast, but she got scared easy. When she was a pirate, she’d usually last until everyone else got caught without managing to get near a single piece of treasure. Bulgur was a good wrestler, but easy to catch. Pefta and Cider were completely useless and Koala was a kid and a goody-two-shoes. Meanwhile, Ella and Bolt were both fast and vicious.

The ‘pirates’ were sent away while they put the treasure around.

“Why were you babying your cousin so much?” Ella muttered.

“I mean, pirates killed her dad and kidnapped her. I was trying to be nice, okay?” Soroko said, blushing.

Ella blushed even brighter.

“How was I supposed to know that?!”

“Literally everyone knows that. You just never listen when people are talking,” Turi told her. “Remember that raid a few towns over? The one where Mr. Peters died? Well they never found her body, and a few months ago, the pirates brought her back. Apparently she was with this huge fishman!”

“Brought her back? Like, why?”

Soroko shrugged, setting down a ‘treasure’ rock. People always looked at him when Koala showed up like he was supposed to have answers.

“I think Mom knows, but she won’t tell me.”

“I think it’s pretty obvious,” Turi piped up, looking proud of herself.

“What’s obvious?” Soroka asked.

“I mean, she married a fishman, right?” Turi said.

“What do you mean?” Bolt asked, looking interested.

“So, I’ve been thinking about it. Because she got kidnapped by fishmen, right Roka?”

Soroka shrugged.

“I think so. Everybody said it was pirates, and those fish pirates brought her back.”

“Why would fishmen kidnap a human, right? Because they’re super strong, and she would have been, like, super young. But then I thought fishladies are probably super ugly, right?”

“Yeah! Like BWUHHHH!” Bolt said with a laugh, smooshing his face to make fishlips.

“So they probably steal human girls to marry. And if she married some fishprince and he died, that would explain why they brought her back!” Turi continued victoriously. “Because she’s a fishprincess now!”

“She does get really mad if people say anything bad about fishmen,” Soroka said slowly. It did make a lot of sense. Maybe that’s why she smiled all the time, because she’d been like… a celebrity.

“I’d be embarrassed if I was married to a fish too,” Ella said seriously.

“Almost done?” Cider called. “You guys are taking ages!”

Hana tossed a few rocks.

“Okay. We’re ready.”

Usually, the pirates all rushed as a group, but they fanned out across the circle, looking determined. They kept glancing over, glancing, Soroka realized, to tiny Koala.

Koala took off first. She didn’t run for the rocks at the edges, she barreled straight into the center. Bolt and Turi moved to block her, ropes out, but Koala didn’t even hesitate. She ran straight at them and shoved through. Soroka had seen how hard she worked, but he’d never realized how  _ strong  _ she was. Not just strong either. She moved with… purpose, like somebody had taught her.

“Ow!” Turi said, rubbing her arm. “Careful!”

“We’re pirates!” Cider yelled, charging in too. “We don’t have to be careful!”

Cider was the only one who actually liked playing pirate. Well, one of two now. Watching Koala grab the stone, jump Ella’s rope, and keep running, he realized this was the first time he felt like he was actually seeing her smile.

“Don’t just focus on them!” Hana yelled. “They’re getting the easy ones.”

It was true. While Cider and Koala charged, the other pirates were darting in to pick off the easier targets.

“I’ve got Cider,” Soroka yelled.Cider let Koala make him overconfident. As the boy darted for a second treasure rock, Soroka tackled him and pulled the rope around him.

“Caught! Go to the prison.”

Cider huffed, but dropped the rocks and Soroka went to help catch Pefta and Bulgur. Both of them managed to get a few rocks out, but didn’t last long. 

The problem was Koala. Usually, if you were fast enough to catch somebody, you could get a rope around them, but Koala seemed to slip through easily. Some of the more nervous Marine team members backed up as she charged passed them, grinning like something possessed. 

“Stop being cowards and grab her!” he yelled.

“Come help then!” Wichop yelled back.

Soroka nodded and joined the rest of the Marines as they tried to catch Koala. She was good, but she was tiring out. Soroka moved to cut her off, but he knew she’d just shove past him. Instead, just as she reached him, he stepped to the side and stuck a foot out.

She went sprawling into the dirt. It looked painful too, her chin bouncing on the ground, and he felt a stab of guilt for capturing a girl who was hurt on the ground. But Koala solved his dilemma by getting right back up with a laugh and kept running like it hadn’t hurt at all.

“Oooh, the Marines are using dirty tricks now, but you’re still gonna lose!” she taunted. There was blood dripping from her chin.

“Surround her!” Ella yelled.

Soroka shook off the surprise and ran at her again. The Marines fanned out and charged, numbers making even the more twitchy members brave. It was exciting, and then, in a moment, it wasn’t. Koala was still smiling, but she went rigid. When she moved again, Soroka realized, as rough as she played, she’d been holding herself back. Once she was surrounded, she lashed out.

Soroka had been closest and she elbowed him in the stomach, taking the wind out of him. She darted forward, and the others stepped back.

Koala froze, smile getting plastic and dim.

“I’m sorry. I panicked,” she said. “Here.”

She picked up a rope and wrapped it around herself.

“It’s a trick. She’s still smiling!” Turi said, but Soroka shook his head.

“Leave it. She smiles when she’s nervous,” he wheezed. “Besides, I tripped her.”

Soroka hadn’t realized it was true until he said it, but it was true. Koala was pretty much always smiling, but sometimes it got… fixed in place. She relaxed once she was further away from the ‘Marines’. As she stepped into the ‘prison’ circle, her real smile came back.

“We win.”

“You got caught!” Bolt protested.

“Actually...” someone said timidly.

They looked over to see Louise, speedy, shy, Louise, out of bounds with the rest of the treasure.

“That’s cheating!” Ella shouted.

“That’s tactics,” Cider said, also grinning wide. “Me’n Koala were bait. She wasn’t even going after rocks at the end, just keeping you from seeing Louise, and you didn’t even notice.”

Louise was blushing, but looked incredibly proud of herself.

“You’re really good. And tough. You should come play again,” Hana told her.

Soroka felt a bit proud of her, a bit frustrated that perfect Koala was good at this too. Her brief outburst was forgotten as everyone gathered around to ask how she’d done it.

“You really haven’t played before?” Cider asked. “How’d you learn to do all that stuff.”

Koala’s grin widened.

“I’ve never played pirates. I am a pirate.”

Most of the kids laughed, but Soroka didn’t. The glint in her eye was too real for her to be joking, and six years was a long time to disappear.

Koala wasn’t a fishprincess or a hostage or a sad little girl. Koala was a pirate.

\----------------------

Sabo stared at the map of Goa.

He wasn’t scared. He wasn’t. Whatever was in his past, he would face it.

It was strange. He had emotions that were clearly tied to memories, but no ability to follow them back to anything concrete. It was like trying to explain the horror of a nightmare (and it was a nightmare), without being able to explain why it was frightening. Like a dream of a rattling door, and you knew whatever was behind it was worse than death. He knew he couldn’t go back to Goa in his core, and he had no idea why.

Looking at the forest didn’t bother him. In fact, it made him wish that Baltigo had trees and animals. Running through the woods, that would be freedom. 

Edge Town and Town Center didn’t evoke much feeling at all (had he not spent much time there, or did he just not tie them to strong emotions?), but High Town, the place he was probably raised, looked suffocating.

And then there was… the other place. Between the kingdom walls and the forest. Every time he looked at it, his eyes wanted to jump somewhere else. He thought he could smell burning flesh, but maybe that was just the stories. He knew what the nobles had done there. Was that why he felt so ashamed when he looked at it? Maybe the blow really had knocked his memories out and he had simply combined two of the only things he knew: he was a noble, nobles had burnt their countrymen like trash.

it didn’t feel like a guess. It was the rattling door in the nightmare. Worse than death. Worse than anything. A well of shame and guilt and fear and grief threatening to overwhelm him every time he brushed it.

But Sabo would not be a coward. No truth could be worse than this mystery. He had to grab the handle himself and pull it open, face whatever nightmare was on the other side. 

He forced his gaze back to the map, read the name.  _ Grey Terminal. Grey Terminal. What am I afraid of in Grey Terminal? _

The door stayed shut. No memories came flooding in. He was shaky and sweating, but it was just a place on a map on an island he didn’t remember, and the stench of burning flesh in his nose. 

He heard somebody coming and hurriedly wiped at his face, trying to hide the tears. He didn’t know if he cried before his accident, but he cried all the time now. All his emotions seemed to surge and disappear at the drop of a hat. The nurses said it was to be expected with a head injury, but it was still embarrassing. Yesterday he’d cried because a particularly round bird had landed on the windowsill.

“Sabo? How are you doing today?” the medic asked, pushing open the curtain meant to give his bed some privacy. Dav was a gentle man, almost too gentle to be a revolutionary in Sabo’s opinion.

“Great!” Shitty. His skin was too tight under his bandages. His arm hurt. His brain felt like it sloshed in his skull every time he moved. “So can I go to class today?”

He’d finished his placement tests a week before and was pleased to find that, though he was apparently more advanced than most of the other children on Baltigo, he was quite behind for a noble. Sabo knew he learned fast, which meant he’d been a terrible student.

He hoped he’d made his teachers or tutors absolutely miserable.

Dav sighed.

“Well, there’s no way you’re not lying, but if I don’t give you something to do, you’re going to sneak out the window soon, aren’t you?”

Sabo saluted.

“Yes sir.”

“Listen, if you’re going to class, there will be conditions. You will use your cane, take it easy, and come back here for lunch. If you’ve opened your injuries, or I think you need rest, you’re done for the day.”

Sabo huffed, but he couldn’t outrun the doctor in this condition.

“Do you need me to walk you there?” Dav asked.

“Nah. This place isn’t very big.” And he’d been sneaking out at night since he could move at all. There was no way he was spending almost two months just laying in bed.

He was already aching when he got to the classroom door, but Inazuma was there waiting. She looked him over expressionlessly.

“Ah yes. Dav mentioned he might be sending you over some time this week. Come in.”

The classroom was surprisingly crowded. Most looked a bit older than him, though not by much.

“Introduce yourself,” Inazuma said, gesturing to the front of the classroom.

Sabo grinned around the room.

“Hey! I’m Sabo! I’m from the East Blue!”

“That’s all?” one of the kids in the back called. “Tell us something interesting!”

“Sorry, that’s all I got!”

“Booooo~! Why do you dress like a noble?” another kid shouted. “And why are you all beat up?”

Well, that was true. There was one more fact about himself. And he’d dressed like this because he didn’t want to try and hide it. They had a right to know, and if they hated him for it, best to rip off the bandaid.

“I’m dressed like a noble ‘cuz I was one, and I’m bandaged up ‘cuz a Celestial Dragon shot me!” he informed them, grinning at the shocked expressions.

“Inazuma, why is he here?”

“Sabo is a fellow student and future comrade. Please take a seat, Sabo. Any empty seat is fine.”

His body desperately wanted to collapse into the front row, anything but stairs, but he wasn’t going to show his weakness this early. He forced himself up the stairs, leaning heavily on his cane. Nobody seemed to have noticed that his left arm hung limp yet, so that was one win.

The gazes on him were mostly curious, but, as expected, a bit hostile. Unless Dragon was a liberal kidnapper, most of the kids here probably had nowhere else to go, and nobles were probably the reason why. He’d made himself an unpleasant reminder, but he tuned the looks out and focused on the lesson.

Honestly, the class was fascinating. Inazuma was a bit dry, but she’d travelled the world as a revolutionary. They were talking about the East Blue, in light of recent action there, and Sabo still didn’t know most of it.

He thought about Dragon’s suggestion. A spy. Thinking about the islands was even more exciting when he thought of it as training for a future mission. He needed to remember to sit with his good ear to the teacher. The pain was distracting too, a constant undercurrent that got louder the longer he sat.

Dav was going to be mad. He definitely shouldn’t have taken a seat up the stairs. He could feel the bandages on his hip slowly soaking through where the scabbed skin had torn open and his muscles ached.

When it came time for lunch, he was disappointed to find the lesson over. The afternoon wouldn’t be as exciting. The regular teacher, Mr. Barkly, was going to come back and teach math, but there was still no way Sabo was missing it. If he went back to Dav for lunch, he’d be forced back to bed for sure.

“You want to eat with us, Sabo?” a girl asked. She had bouncy copper curls and freckles almost hidden by her tan skin. She looked a few years older than him, probably more welcoming the new kid than looking for a friend, but a place to sit sounded nice.

“Sure! Thanks.”

“I’m Dachs. I’m from Baltigo, so feel free to ask anything!”

“From here? I didn’t think there was a town...”

“There’s not. My Dad and my Mom worked for the same noble, but they ran away together and moved here. They work in the gardens, which I know doesn’t sound as cool, but I’m still proud of them. Do you need help getting down?”

“No,” Sabo said, stubbornly taking the stairs one at a time and biting his lip so he wouldn’t whimper. “Can you really grow things here?”

Dachs laughed.

“Well, the soil’s terrible, but the garden beds are filled with imported soil. The less supply shipments we need the better. There’s not enough to graze livestock though, so I hope you don’t mind seafood.”

Thankfully, Sabo had already had time in the medical ward to accept that red meat would remain a memory. Or… not a memory. A concept.

What he wouldn’t do for some grilled crocodile.

“I’m not a picky eater.”

“Oh good. When you mentioned being a noble, I was worried. No offense. You don’t seem very… nobly though. I thought you’d be posher.”

He laughed it off, deflected any question about himself back to Dachs. She seemed to know everyone, loved gossip, and was angling for a job in the kitchens. Sabo couldn’t comprehend not wanting to be out there fighting. Being stuck in bed was making him want to crawl out of his skin and he itched for a fight.

Once they reached Dachs friends in the crowded mess, it got easier to avoid talking. Most of them didn’t seem to want to talk to him, ranging from uncomfortable to outright hostile, so he was free to listen to their conversation with interest.

It was fascinating listening to people talk about politics so openly and radically. Even the kids his age talked about overthrown kings and rebel smugglers with stars in their eyes and Sabo drank it up. He loved it. The best was the adults who sat behind him. They talked softly, no childish excitement in their voices, but it was  _ real _ . He caught snippets of conversation about shipments and propaganda and civilians. 

He wanted to sit with them and hear all of it. He wanted to know what it sounded like when people cared, saw the evil in the world and risked their lives to fight it instead of just escape it or command it. He wanted to be part of it.

“Hmmm… I seem to remember somebody saying they’d come back at lunch to have their injuries checked.”

Sabo looked up to see Dav standing behind him, arms crossed, and gave him his most charming, pleading smile.

“Oh, well that somebody…. Uh… maybe they forgot?”

“Or maybe,” Dav scooped him up easily. In front of everyone. The man had no mercy. “They knew they overdid it and were trying to hide from me so they could stay in class.”

“So… very dedicated to their education, then?”

“Well, then they’ll be disappointed to hear they’re probably spending the rest of the week in bed.”

Sabo groaned, flopping back dramatically in Dav’s arms as he was carried out of the cafeteria.

“That’s so unfair!”

“It’s not to punish you, Sabo. Your body has limits, and when you cross them, you need time to heal.”

“I’ve given it time. I’m sick of it.”

“Injuries don’t care if you’re sick of having them. You’re just going to have to learn to be lazy.”

Sabo huffed.

“You better bring me more books.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've got a bit written ahead and plans for general plot, but tell me what you're interested in or would like to see more of. I love revolutionary focused stuff.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Koala finds out a secret and Sabo breaks a code

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Koala section is one of the more rough ones, so proceed with caution. Lots of talk about Very Bad Things happening to children.

When she had first started speaking with Tiva, Koala had learned the gap between humans and fishmen wasn’t that wide. When she returned to Foolshout, Koala learned the gap between those who’d known slavery and those who hadn’t was a yawning chasm. 

The Sun Pirates always understood when she was upset. Even if one of the less sympathetic members got her cornered, somebody else would step in.

_ ‘C’mon. Can’t you see you’re scaring the poor girl? She’s got that Marigeoise smile back on. C’mere Koala. Let’s leave this idiot on deck. You said you’d paint my nails, right?’ _

_ ‘What do you mean you’re too busy to come to the island? The laundry can wait. Besides, Tiger says we’re going to try and get supplies legally, so we need our adorable ambassador. Who else can we have charm the socks off those shopkeeps? Not Chuu!’ _

Nobody noticed here. In fact, they rewarded the habits the Sun Pirates had helped her break.

_ ‘Koala’s grown up so much. She’s such a good girl, always so cheerful and helpful.’ _

It wasn’t their fault. They didn’t know, and she couldn’t tell them. She didn’t want to talk about what happened.

She didn’t want to explain how sometimes, when grown ups started yelling, she’d start feeling like she had to become small so they wouldn’t shoot her. How sometimes, when she thought about being killed, she was more scared of her body leaving blood on the floor because fear of death was instinct, but fear of imperfection had been beaten into her bones. How she barely slept because she kept having to wake up and make sure that everything was clean, that nobody had hurt baby Kakapo for crying, that she wasn’t back in Marigeoise. 

She wanted to be back on the Snapper Head so badly, with Tiva and Hachi and Aladine. She wanted the rocking of a boat to remind her she was free.

Her Mom didn’t want to talk about it either. Even if she did talk about when Koala ‘was away’, she’d talk about the pirates, never slavery. She couldn’t seem to admit that the worst of what had happened to Koala had been legal.

Honestly, she hadn’t wanted to leave the Sun Pirates for a town and family she could barely remember, but they had insisted. 

_ ‘The sea is no place for a child, Koala. You’re a brave pirate, but you deserve a chance to be a child.’ _

She hadn’t wanted to listen to that, though it was hard not to worry. Maybe they were just being nice instead of telling her she wasn’t wanted. She was weak and a human and no amount of cleaning would be good enough.

_ ‘Koala, I can’t go home. None of us can. If we went back to our home and families, we’d be killed. I don’t want you to go, but you have a home to go back to. Don’t throw that away.’ _

So she’d gone home. She was still waiting for it to feel like home, but she kept wishing the Sun Pirates would come back, maybe just to say hello. And she would go with them, back home, back out to sea. Even if she was a burden, she’d be selfish, work three times as hard, as long as they let her stay.

And then she found out what they’d done.

She’d been using her allowance to buy apples to make apple tarts for everyone. It was clearly going to be a wait because the vendor and a customer were deep in conversation.

“But why would he come here?” the woman was asking. “That’s two fishman attacks this year.”

“That’s the thing. They say he wanted revenge for Fisher Tiger. Well, he’s in Impel Down now, but who knows how many more will come. They’re vicious creatures.”

“We shouldn’t complain. We should just be honored we played a small part in helping stop him.”

She hid her shaking hands under the bag. She had to know for sure. She put on her most wide innocent eyes.

“What happened? Why are the fishmen mad at us?” she asked. One of the advantages of not having much to eat is she looked young for eleven.

The woman gave Koala a sad smile.

“A very dangerous pirate came here a bit ago, but some grown ups called the Marines and they made sure he can’t hurt us anymore.”

“They put him in prison?” she asked, trying not to sound too hopeful. If they’d put Uncle Ti in prison, they could get him out. They would, if she had to walk into Impel Down itself.

“They tried, but fishmen are very violent. In the end, they had to kill him.”

The world stopped spinning. She smiled.

“Who did they catch?”

Hacchan was too much of a pushover to attack alone, and Tiva wasn’t much of a fighter, but if it was Aladine or Jinbei…

“Just one of his crew members. Arlene? The one with the big, jagged nose.”

“Oh. Arlong. Okay.”

A relief, even if she felt guilty for being relieved. Maybe he’d been right about humans after all.

She set down her bag of apples and walked out before they could respond. She felt herself walk home, open the front door, step inside.She looked at their little house’s perfect floors. It was one of the first things she did every night, cleaning away the day’s dirt, making sure everything was polished and sparkling.

She walked to the kitchen and picked up a knife, dropping it tip first into the wood floor with a satisfying thud, then grabbed the blade and dragged it down the grain of the wood, leaving a deep scar.

Fuck this house. 

She yanked it from the wood and slashed again.

Fuck the perfect floors.

She screamed like she was going into battle, striking at the floor with all her strength.

Fuck this whole town, this whole island, the Marines and the world government and the Celestial Dragons.

She never should have left the Snapper. (Tiger would be alive if she’d just fought to stay.)

She wanted to rip this entire town apart from the nail beds. Maybe then they’d built something that wasn’t rotten.

She was laughing. She couldn’t stop. Her shoulders trembled with it as she dulled the knife against the kitchen floor, leaving it torn and scarred.

“Kea...” She heard Auntie Quoll in the doorway. “Something’s wrong with Koala. I need you in here.”

Her Mom stepped in tentatively.

“Koala? Baby? What’s wrong?”

She turned to look at her mother. The woman looked… scared. Of course. Koala was holding a knife and laughing. 

She didn’t put it down.

“Fisher Tiger’s dead. He saved me and you killed him.”

Her mother held her hands out, palms down, voice soft and soothing.

“I know this is hard, but he was a pirate, baby, like the people who killed your father. We had to call the Marines to make sure he didn’t hurt anyone, and he chose to fight back.”

“He wasn’t a bad person, Mom!”

“Koala, why do you keep saying that? He was the leader of the fishman pirates. You don’t need to defend that monster anymore.”

Koala stabbed the knife into the counter.

“UNCLE TI WASN’T A MONSTER! HE WAS A HERO!”

“He branded you, Koala!” her mother said, tears spilling over. “He burnt my little girl! You’re too scared to sleep, you barely want to eat.”

Koala didn’t show her back often, but it was impossible to totally hide it. Her mother had seen glimpses. Now she pulled off her shirt, turning to show her mother the full extent of the brand, large and deep enough to burn off the talon of the dragon.

“This is the mark of the fishman pirates and I am proud to wear it!”

She heard Auntie Quoll gasp, but she didn’t stop.

“Do you know why they wear it? It’s designed to cover a slave brand. Even the ones who were always free took this brand, took that pain, to protect them,” her voice caught. “To protect us! When Uncle Ti saved me, I was broken. And he saved me again, even though humans treated him like dirt, even though he didn’t have to, he made me a person again, and you killed him! You’re the monster!”

She was crying again, and she wasn’t scared. It wasn’t that she felt safe, there was just nothing to be afraid of. Fisher Tiger had been killed, and she had been living with his killers, cooking for them. How could she face the Sun Pirates again? Did they already hate her?

She pulled plates from the shelves and started to smash them.

“Koala, you need to calm down! I know you’re upset, but you can’t just-”

Koala smashed a plate at her feet, looking her in the eye.

“Koala! Stop!”

“Or what?”

Auntie had gone back to the doorway, Soroka hiding at her side.

“Koala...”

“Or what?! Come on! You think skipping dinner or getting spanked could hurt me? I saw Dad die, Mom. And then they chained me up and they sold me.”

“Stop-”

“No! You’re going to listen. They sold me and Marines stood and watched and protected the people who bought me. I’ve been beaten and whipped and starved. I cleaned my friend’s brains off the floor because she cried too loud. I ate food with maggots and mold and the only people who cared, who-.”

Her own furious tears stole her words and her knees gave out.

“Koala...”

Slowly, her Mom stepped forward, trying to put her arms around her, but Koala slapped her hand away.

“Don’t touch me!” she snarled.

Something in her had broken, and there was no one here to save her this time.

\--------------------

Sabo was attending class most days, and Dav had hinted he might even be moved into the dorms soon, a concept that left him both excited and terrified. His guess that announcing his nobility would make him a target had been correct, and, as his injuries became less obvious, his classmates seemed to feel more comfortable notching their bows.

He loved politics and rhetoric and tactics, and was utterly bored in mathematics and art. Whenever the subject didn’t interest him, he focused on his secret studies.

The only thing Dragon had told him was not to mention the possibility of working as a spy to anyone else, and he had wondered how he was supposed to start if he couldn’t ask to be trained.

The answer, it turned out, was that he’d get a note on his bedside, tucked into the book he was reading with his bookmark. It was written in a simple cipher, though it took him a few hours to crack. He was still badly injured at that point, which meant only working when there were no medics watching. Even then, the pain and painkillers worked together to steal his focus, but he cracked it.

_ Read the book in your drawer. When finished, replace it in the library. _

The book, it turned out, was also on cipher. He never managed to see who was leaving the notes, but they left him increasingly difficult codes to break and had him leave responses in his own codes. Most of the responses were essentially book reports on the seemingly endless texts that kept appearing in his bedside table, mostly psychology and politics. 

On top of his regular school work and the exercises Dav had him do, it kept him almost busy enough to not go stir crazy stuck in bed.

The official code for revolutionary correspondence, he was eventually informed, would be taught to him when (if) he was being prepared for fieldwork, but, during his first week of tasks he got his first solid assignment.

The note, written in an annoyingly hard to crack cipher that turned out to be a book cipher based on the first book he’d been assigned, instructed him to create a personal code to take notes while in the field.

The code should be fast to write, complex enough to hold against scrutiny, and subtle enough that he could fill a notebook with it and raise no suspicion that the notebook contained code.

He tried pencil marks on the edge of the page that could pass for wear or doodles, but ruled it out. Too easy to accidentally ruin and hard to make large enough to decipher without burning through pages too fast. Besides, it might look like a harmless habit, but somebody who realized he was a spy could quickly realize the marks were code.

He tried using marks that hinted to words on the page, but that had most of the same problems and was much slower.

After a few more false starts, he settled on a quick, unreadable cursive. The letters weren’t important, it was the joins between the letters where he hid the actual code. He spent hours deciding what would mean what, then practicing it until it felt natural. Even his actual notes hid codes between the letters. (He kept himself entertained for an entire history class by making all his notes say ‘poop’ in his code.)

He wasn’t asked to explain his code, just hand over a sample to make sure it wasn’t too obvious.

The next note was a simple replacement cipher. It gave him directions and said ‘Meet After Class’.

He forced himself not to rush after class. Injuring himself and showing up even weaker than needed wouldn’t leave a good impression. He didn’t know why he felt so sure he’d meet his mentor today, but he was.

He wasn’t sure what he expected when he opened the door, but the person waiting for him was… almost eerily mundane. They looked worn, skin scarred and calloused, but their expression was blank; not bored or slack jawed or stern, a perfect neutral of dispassionate interest. Sabo couldn’t have guessed their race or class or gender.

They closed their book, set it aside, and looked Sabo up and down.

With them giving away so little, Sabo felt uncomfortably naked.

“You don’t look like much,” they said appraisingly.

“That’s the point, right?” Sabo asked, rocking back on his heels. He wouldn’t show his nerves.

“You’re not wrong. I’m Roga, and I’ll be teaching you the basics of espionage. I will continue to assign reading via note, but you will also come here after class for lessons.”

Roga handed him a notebook.

“You will not get a grade for these assignments. You will not speak to anybody about your assignments or let them know about your training. Either you impress me and I continue training you, or you don’t and we find another role. Understand?”

Sabo nodded.

Roga tapped the notebook.

“In this, you will take notes on your classmates, in code. This isn’t about snooping for personal information. I want you to pay attention to body language, word choice, fashion sense. Not being able to read the people around you, or control what you give away, can be life or death. The information you get from body language is easy to misunderstand, but the information you give can be a powerful tool.”

Sabo nodded.

“Let’s begin talking about things to watch for. First, what does somebody lead with as they move? Chest puffed out? Head down and slouched forward? You,” Roga tapped his good shoulder, “lead from here. I imagine it would be even more true without the cane. A very aggressive and confident way to move, more brash than your way of dress would suggest. You stay on the balls of your feet as well, which makes me thing you’re used to moving quickly or silently, and haven’t broken the habit even as your gait has changed. Now, how would you describe Inazuma’s movement?”

Roga sat with him until dinner. He couldn’t believe there were so many things you could say about walking. By the time he got to dinner, he was mentally and physically exhausted, but he couldn’t remember ever feeling so happy.

Not that he had much to base that on.

His left arm was still borderline useless, but, overall, he was improving. Changing bandages had stopped tearing away dead skin. He still hadn’t seen what was under his bandages, but the skin underneath had stopped tearing and bleeding every time he leaned forward and he could handle moderate walking with his cane. 

Watching his muscles waste away had been frustrating, but Dav was finally letting him build them again. Nothing that flexed his torso or put too much pressure on his bad hip, but he’d managed to argue for doing one handed pushups with his good arm and plank (mostly by saying if he wasn’t cleared for  _ some  _ proper exercise, he’d just start doing what he wanted).

There were, however, downsides to his recovery.

“I could just pitch a tent outside,” Sabo suggested. “It could be good practice.”

“You’re living in the dorms,” Dav said. “Consider it practicing a different skill. I know you don’t spend much time around the other students.”

Sabo sighed. Alright. Just think of it as another part of learning to be a spy. He had to learn to talk to people. He could change in the bathroom where they couldn’t see the extent of his injuries. It would be good practice doing his homework from Roga subtly too.

“Can we at least just call them bunk rooms or a barracks or something? I feel like I’m going to some private school.”

“For now, you’re still a student, not a soldier. And don’t worry, you’ll still be here plenty. We’re not letting that get infected.”

At least he didn’t have much to pack. Dav walked him down to the youth hall and showed him a door.

“The other kids are in combat training right now, so you’ll be able to get settled in private.”

The room was bare. Scattered clothes and study supplies, but not much else to tell him about his roommates. He set to putting away his things. Two spare shirts, one spare pants, seven pairs of underwear. A bottle of painkillers (he hated having to take them, but he’d finally admitted it was too hard to sleep without them). His current reading (an autobiographical book written by a famous ornithologist and a tourists guide to visiting the Ballywood Kingdom) and his notebooks went on the small table beside his bed.

It felt like he should do more to declare his space, but, thinking of nothing, he took off his hat, set his cane by the bed, and settled in to read.

His roommates came in half an hour later. They were both older than him, probably closer to thirteen, winded and laughing from training. He recognized them from class, Khopesh and Jian. Neither liked Sabo, but he didn’t feel like he’d be in any danger, at least. 

“Really? You’re our new roommate? I thought you had some fancy private room,” Jian said, but training with Roga had taught Sabo to see more than the light mockery. He looked upset, maybe even frightened.

“Didn’t know the hat could come off,” Khopesh added more softly.

Sabo stood up and bowed.

“Sorry to intrude. I’m Sabo. I’ll be staying here from now on.”

“Yeah, we got that,” Jian continued. “Well, I don’t know things have worked for you before, but we won’t be your lackies.”

“I… know that?”

Jian snorted skeptically.

“Good.”

They fell into an awkward silence until a fourth boy walked in. He looked almost fifteen, but Sabo recognized him from class. Plenty of people overlooked Poet. Despite his size, he was quiet, but Roga was teaching him to pay special attention to people who were good at avoiding attention. He made no effort to hide the aggression in his stance.

“What’s he doing here?”

Jian sighed.

“We’re stuck with the little lord. Don’t let him boss you around, yeah?”

Poet nodded, giving Sabo a shove as he went to his own bunk.

Well, it had gone better than it could have.

Thankfully, Sabo was too busy to have to see his roommates much. When he was studying, he usually went to the library. His room was just a place to sleep, and, as long as they weren’t going to kill him in his sleep, it wasn’t worth bothering with.

He was getting a bit worried about that. There were less verbal jabs, but he saw them tense when he came in and pointedly ignore him. Even their friends had started to avoid him during class. It was getting out of hand.

When he walked in tonight, it was like the room went dead. It was best to deal with it now. Besides, it was getting pretty annoying. He crossed his arms, standing in the doorway.

“Alright, what’s the deal? Did I do something to piss you guys off?”

Khopesh rolled his eyes.

“Not at all,  _ Lord Sabo _ .”

“So it’s because I’m a noble? That’s the problem?”

Jian sat up this time.

“It’s not just that you’re a noble. It’s that you rub it in everyone’s faces. You could dress normal, try and get along with people, help out with the chores, but no, you’re too good for everyone. You don’t even respect the teachers, and they’re heroes!”

Sabo had never thought of his roommates as below him or his teachers above him, he just didn’t like the idea of above or below at all, but… clearly everybody else had been thinking about it.

“I’m not looking down on anybody! And I don’t expect special treatment! I’m just stuck in the medic all the time. I’ve roomed with you guys for two weeks. Have I ever done anything to push you around.”

“You’re too busy avoiding us to push us around,” Khopesh muttered. “Guess we’re not sophisticated enough.”

“And can’t do chores because of your ‘injury’?” Jian scoffed. “You were just shot. I bet all those bandages are just for show and you don’t even want to work.”

Sabo wanted to scream at him exactly how bad the injury was, how hard he was working.

“I-”

Sabo looked around the room.

He’d thought dressing like a noble was honest, so nobody would feel betrayed when they found out. 

But, thinking about it, maybe that was for his own sake. Maybe for everyone else, it was just a painful reminder or the worst parts of their lives. His own difficulty talking about his past, his insecurity and secret work, he could see how that could easily seem like aloofness.

He’d chosen to flaunt that he’d been a noble. In their room, their most private space, he made that a constant presence.

“I… that was not my intention.”

It sounded lame, even to himself, but he went to his bunk and laid down.

Should he stop dressing this way?

He was surprised at how painful the idea was. He had so little of who he’d been before left. Not just that, they’d already become as much part of his flimsy self image as his name. 

It would suck, to start acting all reverent to teachers, and it would probably just get him called a fake and a suck up, because that wasn’t what they hated. They hated the idea of nobles, and Sabo had fed it most by… treating his roommates as a problem to be tolerated instead of potential friends or allies.

But he knew the parts of himself he needed to show to get past their defenses. Of course they accused him of faking his injuries when he put so much into hiding them. He’d wanted to hide the broken, scared boy, and he had. 

But he’d try. If he could handle being a target, he could handle trying to be a friend and failing. He would not let fear of weakness become a weakness. 

The first step… he’d stop leaving for the bathroom to get changed. He wouldn’t do it tonight. He didn’t want to look like he was fishing for pity, but hopefully they would understand it as the gesture of trust it was.

One of the things Sabo appreciated is that Roga planned his training around his…. Limitations, but never considered going easy on him. He was practicing lifts today, and all Roga had done was remind him to keep the target on his good side so he wouldn’t have to reach across his body.

Honestly, the explanation of how to do lifts had been kind of boring. It seemed easy.

And it was. He was supposed to pretend to run into Roga to get the wallet, but that seemed like an unnecessary risk. It was in a jacket pocket, so, if he was light handed enough, he could switch it without Roga feeling it. He brushed past them, replacing the wallet with a small notebook. He was delighted to see Roga looked almost confused when they turned around.

“Do you need another try?”

Sabo grinned wide, pulling the wallet from the inside of his coat. Roga patted their own pocket and pulled out the little notebook with an expression of light surprise.

“You’ve done this before.” Roga stated it as a fact. “Extensively.”

Sabo shrugged.

“Wouldn’t know.”

“Trust me, that was more than natural talent. You’ve practiced, probably done it for real too. It’s interesting. You have noble mannerisms, but most of your habits are what I’d expect for a street kid. A few Marine tics as well. Whatever noble family tried to raise you, you clearly gave them hell.”

Sabo beamed. He knew a compliment when he heard it.


	4. Koala

Koala became a ghost.

She didn’t want to go to school or play with the other children. The rumors only got stranger and crueler, and she learned to start fights and to finish them.

She wouldn’t sleep in her mother’s room, so they ended up shoving a futon into a storage closet. She had a lot of nightmares, but she’d learned to handle her fears quietly long ago. She takes care of herself. Fishman Island didn’t get much in the way of delivery, so they’d learned to make do with what the ocean provided. That meant the Snapper’s crew was used to living off seaweed and seafood. The tastes of dried seaweed and smoked fish were comforts, though she occasionally nicked something from the kitchen when she got too hungry.

She found the memorial while wandering the beach looking for clams. Tiger’s name wasn’t on it, but it was obvious. People had left seashells and flowers. Somebody had even tried to make a Sun Pirate flag. Somebody had trashed it, so Koala set about cleaning it up.

She wondered what had happened to his body. Maybe it had been returned to FIshman Island. She hoped it had.

She spent hours getting the memorial perfect. She went to dig up flowers and plant them by the flag. Somebody might ruin these too, but they’d last longer than the withered cut flowers. When she was finally done, she sat down and looked up at the clumsily drawn flag that bore the same mark as her skin.

“I’m not sure what to do,” she whispered. “I know I’m not acting how you’d want me to. You were always so good to me, and all you wanted was for me to be part of the future you wanted, a future without hate. And you know… you know you all were everything to me. I’d never hate you.”

She tried to hold back the tears, then shook her head. It was just Uncle Ti. It was safe to cry in front of him.

“But I hate them so much. I know I should forgive them. You all went through so much worse, and you forgave. I have no right. I know I’m human, just like them. I know things won’t get better unless I… I can be strong and help make them better, but I’m not strong enough to let go of all these horrible feelings and I don’t know what to do.”

The memorial was silent.

“I miss you so much. I’m sorry you got killed for nothing. This isn’t my home or my family. I hope the crew is safe. I pray for them every night. I keep wishing they’d come back for me, but who would, after what they did?”

She clenched her fists.

“I wish I was kind like you, Uncle. I want them all to know you were a hero. And I promise I’m not going to give up, okay? Not ever. But I don’t know what to do next.”

The flag blew in the wind, but it didn’t answer.

She started sleeping outside when the weather was good. She fought more than one dumb kid who tried to mess with the memorial and, one time, managed to make them actually listen when she explained who it was for.

It was lonely, but lonely was better than furious.

Her mother was trying, in her way. When she got home, Koala’s mother left out newspapers and hardy food. She left notes, but they were never apologies, so Koala left them pointedly in the trash.

She spent a month living like this before the day she saw somebody else kneeling at the memorial.

It took her a second to realize that the woman wasn’t an attacker, but a fishwoman. Her chest was a creamy white while her face and back were spotted yellows and browns, all of her covered with blowfish spikes.

It always seemed odd to Koala there weren’t many women in the Sun Pirates, but Tiva had explained that slavers tended to target male fishpeople and female merpeople. 

Koala approached cautiously.

“Hello.”

The woman startled, puffing up a bit, then forcing herself to deflate and look haughty.

“What do you want?”

Koala bowed.

“I’m Koala. I’ve been tending to the memorial. I wanted to know if you were hungry.”

“I don’t like human food.”

“I was just about to cook some Nereid’s Treasure, actually.”

The woman looked at her curiously, stepping closer.

“You look human. Perhaps one of your parents...”

Koala didn’t want to lie, but the truth was dangerous. Humans turned in Tiger. They might find it fitting to do the same to her. Koala could risk her life, but she couldn’t risk being taken back to Marigeoise. 

“My older brother is a Sun Pirate,” she said. She didn’t think Tiva would mind being called that still. The stranger could draw whatever conclusion she liked. “If you have any news of the crew, I’d love to hear it. I only get what comes in the newspaper.”

“Well, these flowers do look well tended. I suppose I can share some news.”

All sorts of people came to the memorial. Some chased Koala off, one cried in her arms. After another few months, a few even expected her, hearing stories from previous pilgrims. Koala, the human girl at Fisher Tiger’s memorial.

A friendly group had arrived this morning, but they had quite a few injuries from a pirate attack on their journey, so Koala had to go to the house and pick up some medical supplies. 

It was the weekend, but Mom and Auntie were probably both at work.

“Koala?”

She startled and nearly snapped at them before she realized it was Soroka. They’d barely talked since she’d found out about Fisher Tiger, but she tried not to be rude to him. It hadn’t been his fault.

“Uh… hi. I’m just getting some first aid stuff and then I’ll be out of the way.”

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, it’s not for me.”

“Is it for uh….” Soroka shuffled nervously, “the fishmen on the beach?”

Koala tensed.

“Gonna turn them in?”

“No! I mean, people already know, and they aren’t pirates. I was actually… kinda wondering if I could see them?”

“Why?”

“Cuz I wanna know what they look like.”

Koala looked at him. He was curious and frightened, and she wanted to be annoyed by it, but… she could remember being scared too.

_ “Hello Mr. Fishman. My name is Koala. I’m here to bring you your food, so please don’t eat me, Mr. Fishghost, Sir.” _

_ “I- I’m not going to eat you. Why would I do that?”  _

Koala sighed.

“You can come, but you have to be polite, okay? They aren’t a zoo display.”

After all, if she could make him less afraid, just a little, she would be making Tiger proud.

He hung back as she walked into camp. She got cheers, but Soroka got more suspicious glances.

“That’s my cousin,” Koala said casually. “Don’t mind him.”

She honestly half forgot he was there. She was focused on helping where she could. She wasn’t medically trained, but she’d learned there was always a need for somebody who wasn’t afraid to get their hands bloody.

It was when evening fell and the cooking started, Soroka finally inched forward.

“What’s this? You don’t make this at home.”

One of the guests, Anpa, smiled.

“This is what we eat. Everything we cook is from the sea. We don’t need crops or herds or shipments. No matter where we go, we can always cook.”

“So you don’t have candy?” Soroka said in horror. Anpa laughed.

“Not when we travel, but we make candy back home.”

Koala’s eyes lit up. Fishman Island always sounded like a paradise to her, the way her crewmates had talked about it.

“I’ve never had any. How do you make it?”

“Well, my grandpa would kill me if I shared his secret recipe, but I can tell you we use Sea Manna. It’s a sea grass that boils down into a sweet syrup. I used to go out and pick it as a kid, and grandpa would make it into candies for me.”

Soroka slowly relaxed into conversation, fear turning to curiosity turning to relaxed excitement to hear stories of undersea adventure. As the fire turned to embers, she realized he’d fallen asleep, head resting on somebody’s leg.

“I should carry him home,” she said. “Auntie will worry if he’s not there in the morning.”

The last thing they needed was news of fishman kidnappers.

“You sure you don’t need help?” A man asked. Koala shook her head. 

“He’s not heavy. I’ll be back in an hour.”

“It’s awfully dark,” Anpa said. “Maybe you should sleep at his place.”

Koala shook her head, being carefully to keep her smile relaxed, hiding the tension that hit her at the idea. Sleeping alone in that closet, not knowing that her visitors were safe.

“I’ll be back. I like to sleep under the stars.”

Visiting Fisher Tiger’s memorial was a depressing reason to take his first vacation in eight years, but it felt right. Hack should have pushed the revolution to support the Sun Pirates, but he had worried it would be seen as biased or selfish.

Hack had been assisting a small island deal with their governor, but there hadn’t been any good recruits. Not many people were able to claw their way out of hell, then walk right back into a stranger’s hell.

The memorial was even more beautiful than he’d expected. The soil here didn’t seem to grow much, but it was surrounded with wildflowers. Among them were shells, notes, and all number of keepsakes.

The girl was even less expected. After he’d sat maybe half an hour, she approached slowly. She looked up at him with no fear, though there was a bit of challenge in her eyes. Her bow and smile, however, were perfectly practiced. They wouldn’t have been out of place at a ball.

“Hello. I’m Koala. I take care of the memorial here. You must have travelled a long way. Are you hungry?”

It could be a trap, but he doubted it, and not just because the girl was tiny. He doubted a fishperson could have lived on this island long enough to care for the flowers. Besides, he’d worked for Dragon for most of his adult life. He’d met enough people rescued for Marigeoise to know the signs.

“I am a bit hungry. I’m Hack. You’ve done a lovely job with this memorial.”

She seemed surprised by the gentleness, but her smile became a bit more genuine.

“Thank you, Sir.”

She went to a small campsite and was hit with a wave of nostalgia at the smell of the cooking. He hadn’t had a proper clam wrap in years, and the girl made them with more practiced ease than he would have expected from any child, especially a human one.

“It must be difficult, taking care of yourself.”

“It’s fine. My family lives in town, but I like it out here.”

“Well, you’re clearly a practiced cook.”

“Oh, I’m still learning.”

“Who taught you fishman recipes?”

“I learned watching other people make them.“

His curiosity was overwhelming. Had Fisher Tiger rescued her, or did she simply admire anyone who stood up against slavery? Had she met him? Why was she out here with flowers for a dead man instead of in school with children her own age? He tried not to watch her too carefully. She didn’t seem scared of him, but she did seem scared. She hid it well, but she carried the same constant hypervigilance as a veteran revolutionary.

Despite her noddle limbs and cute dress, he’d trained enough children on Baltigo to recognize how muscular she was for her age. He was missing a piece of the puzzle 

“What about you?” the girl asked. “Are you going to be here long?”

“Probably a few more days. I want to pay some respects and get some supplies in town. I don’t suppose you’d mind going into town with me, Miss Koala.”

Even if the girl wasn’t well liked in town, it would still make him safer and less likely to be cheated.

Her smile brightened in a painful, plastic way and Hack’s heart clenched.

“It’s fine if you don’t want to,” he told her. “I know some towns aren’t very welcoming to outsiders, especially outsiders like me, and I know they might take that out on you.”

Koala shook her head

“No. I can’t take care of myself. Just… they were scared enough to turn in Fisher Tiger even though he was just helping, and then Arlong’s attack made them even worse. You have to be careful.”

Helping. He knew Fisher Tiger had been turned in by humans, but he always assumed it was while he stopped for supplies. Hack tried to force an encouraging smile.

“Well, I’m not wanted by the Marines and I can take care of myself in a fight, so the worst they have to throw at me is some rude words.”

He helped her clean up the meal and they walked into town. The closer they get to the town, the more he saw her body language shut down as her face became more statically polite.

The adults responded about as expected, mostly trying to politely avoid staring at him while casting worried, pitying glances at Koala, who was making a show of smiling wide as she gave an enthusiastic tour. Hack was a little startled to realize that the act was intentional. Hack wasn’t the chatty type, and, if conversation flagged, it would be easier to see him as hostile. Koala was trying to show she was walking with him cheerfully and willingly and he was a harmless tourist, not an aggressor.

She was a hardass too. Every time a merchant gave a high price, Koala would announce the price it usually was and demand to know why they were trying to cheat a tourist. For as formally polite as she’d been with him, the girl could be  _ mean,  _ tiny face turning hard and serious.

The errands didn’t take as long as he’d feared with his self appointed personal assistant taking charge. As they started to carry things back to his ship, however, whatever school Koala was failing to attend let out and the jeers got worse.

“That your husband, princess?” a kid called from the edge. 

Koala scoffed and kept walking.

“Oh, don’t bother them,” another boy said, intentionally loud. “She probably wants some private time alone with her new boyfriend.”

Koala turned and glared.

“Brave words from somebody who cried just cuz I kicked him.”

“What?” the boy jeered. “You gonna fight me here in front of everyone?”

“No,” Koala said, in all her pre-teen seriousness. “I’ll tell your mom you were making fun of me again.”

“You’re such a snitch!”

“Your mom’s the snitch,” Koala said, and Hack heard real venom, small fists balled up tight.

“You take that back,” the boy snarled, stepping closer.

Hack had no desire to watch two fry fight, especially in an argument caused by his presence. He put a firm hand on the boy, holding him back.

“That’s enough. Young Miss Koala has been polite enough to help me with some errands before I set back out to sea. Let’s not let our words get out of hand.”

In the face of a real fishman, the kids scattered.

“Sorry about that,” Koala said with a sigh. “They’re just idiots.”

“I hear worse. I’m sorry you had to hear it though.”

The girl shrugged, already seeming to relax a bit as they left the town.

“Why do they call you princess?”

“I… was gone for a bit, and somebody started a stupid rumor that I was kidnapped to be the bride of a fishman prince.”

Hack snorted, then caught himself.

“Sorry. It’s just… our princes are mermen, not fishmen. And I can’t imagine Neptune having a human girl kidnapped.”

But years away. That just about confirmed his theory. Still, he had to broach the topic carefully.

“It must be frustrating, people making up their own stories.”

“Nobody cares what I say. I keep saying Uncle Tiger helped me and is a hero, but they just keep making up stories to say I don’t know what I’m talking about,” Koala said, kicking a worn shoe in the dirt.

“He saved a lot of people, but it’s still nice to hear a human call him a hero. I never got to meet him, but I wish I had. He was an amazing man.”

“I met him,” Koala said more softly, like she was sharing a secret.

“What was he like?”

“Strong. And righteous, but never cruel. I-” her hands clenched in nervousness, but she continued, “I sailed with him. For two years. He made us feel safe. He’d go against anything for his crew, but he always reminded them he fought to save, not to hurt. A lot of his crew were angry, but he made… everyone who sailed with him wanted to be better, because they didn’t want to let him down.”

Hack had pieced together some of the story, but he was still stunned. A slave rescued by Fisher Tiger, perhaps even helped home by him, but the way she spoke… this little girl was a Sun Pirate. No wonder she was nervous sharing it. She was an escaped slave and a pirate, not to mention living proof that the military’s propaganda was lies.

They reached Koala’s makeshift campsite and he sat next to her on a large rock by the firepit.

“It takes a lot of strength,” Hack said, “to keep a level head while fighting against such atrocity. I’m sorry for your loss.”

Koala had ducked her head, hiding her expression, but now that she had shared her secret, the words seemed to come spilling out.

“I feel like I’m letting him down. I didn’t even want to leave but… my friends were so happy I could go home, since they can’t. And I know I got in the way and- I hate it here. I hate the people here. I shouldn’t! Uncle wouldn’t want me to, but i can’t help it. They sold him out to the Marines, but that crew was better than my dumb Mom and Auntie. Even before I heard what they did- Nobody here sees anything. It makes me feel crazy, but I know what happened to me. I know it’s true.”

Hack put a hand on her shoulder, gently as he could. They must be laughing back on Baltigo, Hack stuck comforting a distraught child.

“I know many, many people from situations like yours. To be so young and not having given in to despair or fear is truly remarkable. That you fight to be kind is even moreso. What happened to Fisher Tiger is not your fault. He made his own choices, and the villagers made theirs. You have every right to be hurt and angry.”

She broke into genuine sobs now, and Hack tried to figure out what he was supposed to do, patting her back, afraid she might break under even a gentle touch.

“I’m sorry,” she said as her sobs got under control. 

“It’s fine. I imagine there aren’t many you can talk about these things with.”

“Yeah. Which- You said you travel a lot. Do you have any news? I only know what’s in the papers. They mentioned the crew split, but not what happened. Has anyone besides Arlong been captured?”

“About that-”

The news might hurt her. Plenty of revolutionaries had asked him what the hell the man was thinking, as if Hack had any insight. Chappie had been furious enough to nearly cry with rage, calling him a traitor who was stomping on Tiger’s legacy.

“Jinbei has accepted an offer to join the Seven Warlords in return for amnesty for all the Sun Pirates.”

Koala gasped, putting a hand over her mouth.

“Jinbei?” she sounded shocked. “But he would hate- he-”

“It’s a strange choice, but I’m sure he had his reasons.”

She shook her head.

“No, it’s… I’m just really happy.” She sniffed, holding back tears. “Most of the Sun Pirates didn’t want to be pirates. But if they were pardoned… they can go home now. They can see their families.”

‘ _ My friends were so happy I could go home since they can’t, _ ’ she’d said. Hack hadn’t even realized amnesty would cover escaping slavery, not just piracy. All those people stuck running to survive going home to their partners and parents and children. He would never ask somebody to give that up.

But the more Koala talked, the more obvious it became how miserable her own homecoming was. He didn’t approve of Dragon recruiting children, even if he helped teach them to fight. They were too young for Baltigo. But this girl had been too young for Marigeoise too, and she was clearly so miserable here.

He had been considering attributing it to trauma and teenage rebellion and hoping her wounds would heal, but perhaps she would be happier among people who understood.

“It must be hard for him,” Koala said. “Jinbei is a very stubborn man, and he was… a lot angrier than most of the crew. I’m sure even some of the crew will be mad, but… when I think of everyone getting to see their families...”

She trails off with a shrug.

“That’s a good way of looking at it. And as much as I dislike the Marines, seeing him alongside them might be good,” Hack admitted. Koala gagged.

“I don’t want to think of him having to stand next to smelly Marines.”

“You aren’t mad at the Sun Pirates who went home instead of fighting?” Hack asked.

“No. They should get to pick.”

“Did you get to pick?” he asked.

She sighed.

“Of course not. I loved being a pirate and getting to fight! Getting to do something! I haven’t punched a Marine in so long!”

Hack actually laughed at that.

“Well, sorry for being roundabout, but I wanted to make sure you were interested. The people I work for are all about punching Marines. And Royalty. Hopefully the Celestial Dragons themselves someday.”

Koala’s eyes lit up.

“Will you take me with you? I know I’m small, but I can cook and clean and fight. I’m a hard worker and I don’t complain.”

There was a slight desperation to it, less a child begging to join a parent on a trip and more an inmate begging for a key to their prison. Hack felt a lot less guilty about making the offer to a child.

“If you’d like, but are you sure you’re okay leaving here behind?”

Koala looked over to Fisher Tiger’s memorial.

“I can’t spend the rest of my life being sad. He told us not to sit around being upset about the past when we could be fighting for the future.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pls feed me comments.


	5. Sabo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sabo's issues don't feel like being ignored, and a cane can be quite useful in a fight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cw: panic attacks

Sabo kept having a dream.

He didn’t tell anyone about it. It was too precious to share, and too simple to communicate the weight it held in his heart.

He was running through the jungle in the sunlight. There was no pain. His body moved like he felt it should, bouncing between the trees. Ahead, somebody was calling for him.

_ Sabo! Sabo, this way! _

And he knew, whatever was ahead, it was wonderful. 

It was always a good day when he woke up from that dream.

He didn’t wake up this time. He was running, heart warm, wind rushing past as he ran, and then he smelled smoke. The forest faded around him and the warmth of the sun was replaced with the heat of flames.

_ Sabo! Sabo! _

Somebody was screaming, but his legs wouldn’t work anymore.

Grey Terminal was burning and… there was something there. 

_ Something it would be worse than death to lose. The monster on the other side of the rattling door. _

The horrible feelings welled up, the shame and fear, and he woke up with tears streaming down his face and a scream caught in his throat, disoriented and terrified. 

He tried to sit up, but his body didn’t move like he wanted it to. It felt limp and weak, and the sheets wrapped around him like roots. He clawed at the blankets, trying to get oxygen, yanking them off and throwing them off the bed. 

He still couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t breathe with all these stupid bandages. He needed them off. Why did his body have to be so slow and useless? He couldn’t collect himself to unwrap the bandages, just pull them loose, causing the other strips to bind tighter.

Even as they started to come away, the skin beneath was wrong, hard and plasticy. He clawed at it, trying to pull it away and get to the real skin underneath. This couldn’t be him. There was a real boy under there, a boy with memories, a boy whose body moved like he knew it should. 

He was screaming, but it didn’t hurt, not even when his tears ran into the fresh wounds. The grief was overwhelming. Grief for the boy shot down by a Celestial Dragon who was dead, grief for the poor idiot who woke up in the battered remains of his body. Grief because he had lost something important, and he wasn’t even sure if it had burned in Gray Terminal, or burned away with his memories, but something important was gone and the absence ached.

Hands tried to grab him, tear his hands from his skin, but he twisted away. He’d had enough of being grabbed and pulled and manhandled. He just needed out. 

‘-won’t stop! Somebody help!’

‘Sabo! Sabo, stop! What are you doing!’

‘Fuck, there’s blood! Get a teacher!’

Soon stronger hands were on him and he threw his whole body into trying to fight them. Somebody had cocooned him in blankets and the voices were soft, but all he could feel was helpless fury.

He screamed until the energy was gone, leaving him shaking and exhausted, but strangely relaxed. Then he came to himself, in the medical room, burning with shame.

He’d lost his shit over a stupid nightmare. In front of his roommates and who knew who else. His scars stung and itched and he could still practically feel his fingers digging into his skin. What if they said he was too crazy to be a spy now? Maybe too much of a liability to be here at all.

Maybe he could just… go out the window and swim away.

No, head on! He could deal with this. 

He looked around the room. Thankfully, nobody had stayed and it was just Dav who had seen him plenty pathetic already. He was pretty sure at one point in his recovery, he’d been so out of it Dav had been having to reassure him that he wasn’t going to be forced into an arranged marriage with a sea king.

“So that was embarrassing,” Sabo said, forcing a smile.

“Nothing to be embarrassed about. Plenty of people in our army have those sorts of attacks. Dealing with them is a normal part of being a medic,” Dav said. “Glad to see you’re alright.”

“So they won’t…. kick me out?”

“Of course not, but I would like to talk about it. Are you up for that?”

“Yeah.”

“Do you know what set it off?”

Sabo looked away, blushing brighter.

“It’s stupid.”

“There’s no stupid reason to have an attack. I won’t judge you, promise.”

“I had a nightmare. I dream about the jungle a lot. Maybe the jungle on Goa, but then… it turned into a dream about Grey Terminal burning and… I don’t know. I couldn’t remember why I was so upset. I mean, it was horrible, but there was something… personal too. And when I woke up, everything just felt wrong. I had to escape.”

Dav sat on his bed.

“That doesn’t sound stupid at all. It sounds like you’re trying to process some horrible memories without even being able to remember them. That must be incredibly frightening.”

“It’s not scary!” Sabo said defensively. “It’s just stupid! It’s stupid and I hate it. I’ve been reading about head injuries, and mine isn’t so bad. And I can… feel the memories there. They’re not gone or anything, so why can’t I just… remember them?”

The relaxation his fit had brought was already wearing off, pain and frustration surging back in to join the embarrassment.

“About that, I actually had a theory I wanted to share with you about your memories.”

“What?”

“Are you familiar with battle fatigue?”

Sabo shook his head.

“It’s one of the most common conditions I treat. When you have a stomach illness, it’s very common to start disliking foods you ate during that illness. Rationally, you understand those foods did not make you sick, but a far more primal mechanism kicks in. If you eat a food then become ill, your mind connects those two events, and you instinctively avoid that food.”

“Yeah?”

“Well, your mind can do that with bad events too. And this can be good, just like learning to avoid foods can protect us from poison. For example, practiced soldiers hear the first shot, and their body immediately prepares for combat, making them alert and energized. But, when they return to safety, that instinct might also kick in from shooting on the practice yard, making them feel as if their life is in danger. Their mind might also make less rational connections. If somebody hears a song right before getting the news a friend was executed, that song might become ‘poison’. The rational brain understands that the song did not cause the execution, but the part of the brain that protects us by looking for patterns makes a connection and, each time that song comes on, make the person feel as if a loved one will die soon.”

Sabo tried to follow, still feeling bleary.

“You think I can’t remember because of that? I don’t get it.”

“No. Your situation is a bit more complicated. You certainly have a brain injury, but there might be something else at work. You’ve described feeling emotionally overwhelmed when you attempt to access your memories. I think there may be something in those lost memories that your mind is attempting to reject.”

“But it’s not like I don’t want to remember! I want to remember.”

Was Dav trying to say it was his fault he was like this, that he  _ wanted  _ this because he was too scared to remember?

Dav shook his head, smiling sadly.

“If we could control the things our brain does to protect us, life would be much easier.”

“So… can you fix it? How do I remember?”

Dav sighed.

“We have to be careful. Forcing yourself to remember can create false memories. You may end up creating a story that fits your emotions, and, considering how negative those emotions are, the narrative you create could be far harsher than the reality.”

“Whatever it is, I can handle it! I just want to know!”

“I know, but you can’t just choose to reverse brain damage or trauma. As your physical brain heals, perhaps the broken connections will begin to function, and, as you become more stable and safe feeling here, it may become easier to approach those connections without triggering such an intense response.”

“And until then… this could just keep happening?” Sabo asked, touching his cheek where he could feel the itch of scab fusing back to skin.

“Hopefully not.”

“Isn’t there like… some sort of medicine?” He didn’t want to humiliate himself like this again. He didn’t want to be a liability.

“Nothing I’m comfortable giving somebody as young as you unless the situation got a lot worse. Besides, our supply lines here are unstable, and having to stop taking that kind of medicine suddenly can be worse than never having it.” Finally, Dav’s face brightened. “Though I do have one prescription I think you’ll be quite happy about.”

Sabo leaned forward curiously.

“It’s still a bit much for your body, but I think all this bedrest is taking too great a toll on your mental health. I’m going to clear you to take physical classes with the other children.”

Okay. The nightmare was worth it. He’d get to spar!

“If,” Dav said sternly, “you’re somewhat careful. I know I might as well be telling a puppy not to bite here, but you feel anything start to hurt too badly, you stop.”

“Kay.”

“I’m serious Sabo. Overexerting yourself doesn’t just slow down healing, it can change how much you can heal.”

Sabo nodded a bit more seriously. Roga was harsher than Dav. The first time he pushed himself too hard, Roga had told him that, looking at his medical file, they could tell his behavior had already done irreparable damage. If he’d rested like Dav wanted him to, his hip and arm might have had a chance at full recovery.

That had hurt, the idea that pushing himself hadn’t been tough or heroic, maybe. Just stupid.

“How much damage did I do today? During my attack?” he asked.

“Thankfully, most of it was superficial. You didn’t move your legs much, and your roommates did a good job getting help fast. You’re going to be a bit more sore than usual, but mostly, you just had a real crappy morning.”

“Can I go to class?”

“I don’t think you should be walking, but I can have somebody wheel you, if you’d like.”

“Okay.” Normally he wouldn’t agree, but he didn’t want to be alone with his thoughts right now.

Thankfully, his roommates were the only people who stared at him,which meant they hadn’t blabbed. Khopesh even tried to talk to him as they headed out, but Sabo managed to slip his attention.

Roga was a relief. Sabo knew they’d found out because Roga always knew things, but they didn’t mention it. Rather than continuing working on stealthy movement, they focused on controlling microexpressions. Unfortunately, Sabo was still struggling to control macro expressions.

Currently he was supposed to be reading through a collection of silly short stories without making any facial expressions, but he’d broken down in giggles four times already. Roga’s flat demeanor made it so hard not to crack up.

“You’re still smiling,” Roga said.

“I’m not!” Sabo protested. He thought he’d being doing well.

“Your eyes are. And the tone of your voice. It’s the difference between this,” they said in their usual flat affect, “and this. Can you hear the change.”

Their voice warmed and their eyes shone. It was easy to see Roga’s apathetic demeanor as a choice, but it was always eerie to watch how they could turn on and off personalities at the drop of a pin. 

“Yeah, got it.” Sabo turned back to the text and got three words in before dissolving into another fit of giggles.

“We’re done for today. You’re too distracted,” Roga said.

Sabo tried to steel himself.

“I’ll focus.”

“Nah. Go get some rest, kid.”

Sabo sighed. He wasn’t the type to avoid the elephant on the table.

“Did Dav tell you about this morning?”

“No. He takes that confidentiality shit seriously. Your distraction is obvious. Besides, he also leaves his medical files out.”

“Leaves them out?” Sabo asks, eyebrow raised. “Dav’s not that irresponsible.”

Roga shrugged.

“Leaves them in a cabinet with a weak lock.”

Sabo turned back to the text.

“He said it might keep happening,” he admitted. “Can’t be a good spy if I keep having screaming fits, huh?”

“I won’t lie, it would limit the type of missions we could put you on,” Roga said, “so take care of it. Start meditating or something. For now, I’m treating it as a temporary issue. It’s only happened once in the months you’ve been here. Otherwise-”

Roga shrugged one shoulder.

“You’ll have to focus on shorter missions where it won’t crop up. We won’t waste your talents. We’ll just work with your limitations.”

Sabo grinned.

“You’re kinda a pushover, aren’t you?”

Roga didn’t take the bait.

“You’re dismissed Sabo. Go rest.”

He went back to the library, his preferred location for roommate avoidance, but eventually, he had to go back.

There was an awkward pause when he stepped in, Jian and Khopesh turning to stare while Poet focused suspiciously hard on the shirt he was restitching.

“Sooooooo,” Sabo said, putting his hands in his pockets and rocking back on his heels, “I don’t suppose we can all pretend this morning didn’t happen.”

“You were off your shit, dude,” Khopesh said, less accusing and more… still shocked.

“Yeah. But I’m cleared for combat classes now. Doc says I need to burn off some energy.”

Another pause. Even the breathing sounded loud.

“You good?” Jian asked.

“Yeah. I’m fine.”

“Then it didn’t happen,” Jian said with finality, then bit his lip, gathering his determination. “But… I- shouldn’t have said that shit about you faking your injury. That was fucked up.”

They had seen the scars, the scars Sabo still hadn’t seen. At least he didn’t have to know what he’d looked like before. For him, the bandages had been there his whole life. He almost wanted to ask what he looked like.

“Don’t worry about it.”

Rather than fall back into silence, Jian and Khopesh awkwardly chatted with each other, trying to fill the dead air with normalcy. Once they fell asleep, Sabo shared a more comfortable silence with Poet. Right when they turned out the light, Poet finally looked over.

“I… I have nightmares too,” he muttered, almost quiet enough Sabo could believe he hadn’t heard it. “‘Bout before.”

Embarrassingly, his first reaction was to see it as a chance to get intel on a mark. Roga’s training was sticking in his brain. But… most of the tools still worked. Making people like you to get intel and being likable for its own sake were similar skillsets.

Offer something of yourself, gently give space to talk

“I don’t remember anything from before I was shot,” Sabo said quietly. It was easier to talk in the dark. “So I don’t really remember what I’m dreaming about.”

“Is that easier? Not remembering.”

“Dunno. I’ll tell you if I ever remember.” He tried to say it like a joke, to lighten the mood, but the quiet heaviness stayed. He got the feeling Poet wanted to say something, but didn’t have the words, and Sabo didn’t have the skill to help him to them. “Dav, he’s the doctor, says lots of people here have that kind of stuff. You should talk to him, if it’s ever getting to you.”

“Yeah.”

Sabo planned to wait for Poet to fall asleep, then do some more reading. Instead, he fell asleep immediately, and, if he dreamed of jungles or fires, he didn’t remember it.

The first day he was officially cleared for combat was Sabo’s hardest day in class, including the ones where he’d been bleeding through his bandages. He wanted to move and fight. Who cares if his body didn’t move right? He just couldn’t wait to move.

The actual day ended up being a bit of a letdown.

The usual teacher, a man named ‘Hack’, was away on a mission, which meant Puck, one of Ivankov’s, was teaching. The man’s appearance got a few snorts, but Sabo was pretty sure a man in a wolf minidress, fishnets, and a gun on his back was not a man who feared anything.

But it was so boring. Punch from the right, punch from the left, punch from the right, punch from the left. And half the kids didn’t even know the basics. Sabo was a bit relieved to see his roommates were among the better ones. He wasn’t sure how he’d face a boy who punched with his thumb inside his fist this morning.

“You’re supposed to be using your left arm for the left punches,” the teacher barked.

Sabo was torn between explaining he couldn’t and just saying ‘no’, and landed on saying his actual thoughts instead.

“When do we do something interesting?”

“Think you’re too good to learn the basics?” the teacher asked. 

Sabo grinned.

“Yeah. And I can prove it too. Let’s fight.”

His mind was already running the calculations on what he’d need to do. Keep his good side forward to protect his weak side. He couldn’t leap too much, so he’d need to hobble his opponent fast as possible and only move when he needed to.

“You sure you want to do this?”

Sabo nodded, getting into position, but something felt off. He needed a weapon.

“Can I use my cane?”

“Of course.”

Sabo picked up his cane, tossing it experimentally. It was lighter than he would have liked, but it felt good. He gave it a spin, letting it roll over his wrist with practiced ease and his smile widened. This felt right.

The teacher raised an eyebrow, taking an experimental kick. Sabo’s instincts said to jump, but he knew his leg couldn’t take the landing. Instead he deflected it up, trying to throw Puck off balance. Frustratingly, but thankfully, their teacher wasn’t going to be thrown off by being deflected. 

Thankfully, he also didn’t seem used to opponents as small as Sabo.

If he had full use of his limbs, he would leap up, take a direct slash, kick off the shoulders, kick off the wall, and come in to attack from the back. Even experienced fighters tended to be unprepared for what you could do when you were small, smart, fast, and fearless.

Well, he was slower now, but three out of four would do. He wanted to learn to fight like this, and there was no time like the present. He put the end of the cane out to Puck’s right and leapt over it. If he could use his good arm to balance himself over it, he could rely on his arm and core to turn midair without hitting his leg. Then he could pull up into a swing and get a shot at the man’s back. Not being able to get his bad arm into position would be a problem, but he had enough movement in his shoulder to at least get it moving in the right direction.

He managed the move, but not with much grace, he wobbled a bit over the cane, not practiced or strong enough to pull off a smooth pivot and ended up striking directly over where the gun was slung. As he swung forward, two facts hit Sabo at once.

First, his cane was wood, not the solid metal he’d planned to hit with. It was not going to survive this hit.

Second, he was about to really regret that because he’d launched into the air with no exit strategy. He could cushion himself a bit by landing left leg first, but his traitorous right leg, which complained at even sharing the weight of a step with his cane, was going to take some of the impact.

The cane broke gloriously, splintering across Puck’s back and sending him stumbling forward, though the man didn’t fall. Sabo hoped the noise, and the shouts of the other kids, covered the slight whimper he made as he hit the ground. The impact ran up his bad leg where it seared into his hip, making his vision flicker. His legs crumpled under him, leaving him sitting with the remains of his cane, gritting his teeth and hissing in pain.

Puck turned to look him over, seeming a bit impressed, a bit guilty, and very judgemental. All the students were watching too, though they mostly looked excited.

“You didn’t mention being severely injured,” Puck said.

Sabo gave a guilty smile, and resisted pointing out the bandages should have been a tip off.

“What have we learned?” Puck asked.

Sabo thought for a moment. This was going to be an embarrassing walk back, even if his jump had been pretty cool. He touched his throbbing leg and looked at the wood splinters around him.

“That I need a metal cane.”

Puck sighed behind his magnificent mustache. 

“Can somebody please help this young man to medical, as he has, apparently, decided to use his assistive device as a disposable weapon?”

“Me n’ Kho got it,” Jian announced. “We’re his roommates.”

Khopesh helped Sabo to his feet, and Sabo realized it was the first time any of his agemates had touched him in a way that wasn’t a shove or accidental brush. He bit his lip hard so he wouldn’t make any noise.

“I don’t need to carry you, right?” Jian asked.

“Please don’t. Just walk slow.”

“I’ll stop by later to discuss what to do next. This class obviously isn’t the right fit for you.”

Sabo winced. He really hoped that meant ‘because we need to put you in the cool staff fighting class for badasses’ and not ‘because we need to keep you from learning combat to protect your fragile body’.

He did his best to keep his dignity as he let Khopesh and Jian help him back inside.

“Where did you… learn to fight like that?” Khopesh asked, still sounding a bit stunned.

Well, he’d already told Poet.

“No idea!” he said, pain perhaps making his cheer a bit unhinged sounding. “I, uh, don’t actually remember anything before I got to Baltigo a few months ago.”

“Devilfruit?” Jian asked.

“Nah, good old head injury,” Sabo said. “I didn’t really know I could fight until I tried it. Ah, it felt really good. Except that end bit.”

“Maybe you’re not a noble then. You don’t act like one.”

“Ah, Dragon met me before, apparently. And he saw when the Celestial Dragon shot me.”

“Do you know why?” Khopesh asked.

“I was trying to run away and crossed in front of their ship, I guess.”

He left out the pirate flag. It sounded so childish.

“Who the fuck shoots a kid just because they’re in the way,” Jian said. Sabo was a bit touched at how genuinely pissed he sounded.

“A Celestial Dragon, I guess.”

“Sounds about right.”

Dav is not pleased to see him, but he doesn’t seem surprised either.

“What did he do?” he asked Jian.

“He literally broke his cane across the combat teacher’s back! It was so badass!” Jian said.

“Turns out I can fight!” Sabo bragged.

“Wonderful,” Dav said dryly. “And your injuries?”

“Can I get a metal cane?”

“I’ll see. Your injuries?”

“Just landed a little too hard. I don’t think I knocked anything out of position or anything.”

“Well, small mercies. Thanks for getting him here, boys. Sabo’s determined to be my most difficult patient.”

As his roommates cleared out, Dav set about checking the injuries.

“Gonna lecture me?”

“Would it do any good? I knew you’d end up here when I cleared you for combat training. Any pain in the arm or is it just the hip?”

“Just the hip.”

By the time Puck arrived, Dav had seen a couple of other patients and was now writing up his reports. Sabo was reading and taking notes on the diary of a West Blue merchant. 

Puck took the chair by his bed, waving Dav over.

“I’d like your advice on this as well, doctor. We’ve got a bit of a tricky situation with Sabo.”

“I want to keep training,” Sabo said firmly.

“And I don’t plan on stopping you,” Puck said. “You’re a skilled fighter with lots of potential, but I’m not sure how to proceed. Normally, I’d put somebody with your experience in our lessons for our adult trainees, but your injuries mean most standardized lessons won’t be helpful.”

“I’m fine training alone.”

“I’m not fine with you training alone,” Dav responded. “What if you’d fallen like today and nobody else was there? It gets cold here overnight, and that could do a number on you.”

“When Hack gets back, we can talk to him about helping you develop a specialized fighting style. I don’t fight with staff weapons often enough to help, but until then...”

“More waiting?”

“Not necessarily. Dav, you still think healing rates predict Haki proficiency?”

“Not a predictor. I said I think advanced healing is a nascent manifestation of Armament Haki.”

Sabo listened with interest, but the terminology was going right over his head. Listening in on the adults, he’d heard them mention Haki. It sounded like a special weapon only given to advanced fighters, but this made it sound more like some medical condition.

“And Sabo?” Puck asked.

“Should be dead five times over,” Dav confirmed. “I imagine he’d take to Haki like a fish to water.”

“I think it could benefit him, but I don’t have your medical experience. Do you think it would help cushion impacts?”

Dav looked thoughtful.

“Honestly, I’m not sure. We don’t have too many Haki masters, and they tend to be horribly stubborn patients. Sabo has fairly fragile skin, so it would help with that, but I’m not sure how much it would protect him from joint damage. It certainly won’t help him use the arm. Haki can’t repair nerve damage.”

Sabo cleared his throat.

“Armament Hockey? What are you talking about?”

“Haki is an advanced technique common on the Grand Line,” Puck explains. “There’s a couple of ways to use it. Armament Haki is about taking your force of will and giving it physical form. The result is incredible strength, durability, and the ability to attack logia users.”

“And healing,” Dav added.

“And, one stubborn doctor suggests, may help speed up physical recovery as well, though nobody has managed to intentionally harness that ability,” Puck amended tiredly.

“That sounds kinda… made up?” Sabo said.

“Why is it you had no trouble with devilfruit existing, but Haki sounds made up?” Dav said with a laugh. Sabo enjoyed reading about devilfruit, maybe because he’d probably never got to hear about them as anything more than legends before.

“Because devilfruit are really hard to get. It makes sense they could be real without people in the East Blue knowing, but anyone could learn Haki. If it’s that powerful, shouldn’t everyone be talking about it? How would I have never heard of it?”

“The same reason most information dies between islands,” Puck told him.

“The World Government?”

“Yes. Why would they share the advantage? After all, without Haki, their admirals are practically invincible. Most high ranking Marines use it. I’d like to start training you to use Haki.”

“Dav, let me learn the secret technique to punch Marine Admirals!”

“Well, when you put it like that, how can I say no?”


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I AdDED thIS CHAPTER TO THE WRONG FIC ON ACCIDENT  
> Anyways
> 
> Koala sails to Baltigo and meets her roommates  
> Ivankov attempts to help Sabo self actualize

Being back at sea felt like breathing again. When she woke up, there was no moment of panic, wondering where she was. The rock of the waves told her she was free.

She was helpful here too. Hack didn’t let her clean too much, but she did the cooking and helped run the rigging, clearly relieved not to do it alone. When the wind was slow, he helped her train too. She’d slacked off on Foolshout. Her few fights had been scuffles with children.

“I usually have to adapt my style for human students,” Hack had told her, when she’d been apologizing for using up his time, “but you already have a steady base in fishman karate. It’s nice to get to speak my mother tongue.”

She learned he loved combat. Not fighting, but the art, the forms and movement and history.

As they got closer to Baltigo, she got nervous again. What if it wasn’t better? What if it was just Foolshout all over again?

Those worries lifted when they docked. People greeted Hack with smiles and jokes. His responses were more subdued, but warm. All around her, she saw signs of people who had seen the world. They had muscles and scars and weapons.

(Fisher Tiger hadn’t killed, these people obviously did. Koala found she was okay with that.)

Among the crowd, she even saw others not bothering to hide clear signs of slavery. Some had brands, though she didn’t see any other Soaring Dragon Claws. Others had old scars on their neck or wrists from an unpadded collar or manacles. Nobody stared at them or looked at them with pity.

“I really get to stay here?” she asked Hack. 

“I know it’s not much-”

“It’s perfect.”

“I have to report to Dragon first. I’ll introduce you as well. He’s a bit intense, but he’s a good man.”

He walked her through white stone halls. It was quieter here. Everyone seemed focused and intense, hurting somewhere or whispering. Finally, they reached the room where Dragon was working. 

He didn’t have his own office. Instead, it was a desk at the back of a room where he could watch other revolutionaries receiving communication. Hack walked up to his desk, arms held with military seriousness.

“Returning to duty, Dragon. I’ve also brought a recruit.”

He stepped back, gesturing for Koala to step forward. She could feel a couple of the other revolutionaries shift to see, but Dragon’s gaze was so much bigger than any of theirs.

Fisher Tiger made you feel warm. For a crew of hurt people, most either separated from their family or fishman district orphans who’d never had one, he offered a family on the sea.

That was what a leader felt like, in her mind. 

That was not what Dragon felt like.

Dragon did not feel like future family. It felt like staring into the face of a raging storm. Not, ‘I want to fight by his side’. Looking at him, she thought ‘thank fuck he’s my ally and not my enemy’. And it wasn’t the height or the tattoos or the permanent scowl.

Koala was sensitive to danger, and power rolled off this man in waves.

If she was honest, it was a bit exciting. She bowed.

“Hello Mr. Dragon Sir. My name is Koala. I’ve heard you have a place here for anyone who wants to fight.”

Dragon raised an eyebrow at Hack.

“You complain about young recruits. Why the change of heart?”

Hack cleared his throat uncomfortably.

“She was looking for a way to fight alone. I prefer children stay out of the fight, but if this is her wish, I felt she’d be safer with allies and resources.”

“I suppose she would. And what do you bring to our fight, Miss Koala?”

Dragon looked her over, and Koala stared back, unflinching.

“I was kidnapped and sold to the Celestial Dragons when I was five and escaped three years later during Fisher Tiger’s raid. I spent a few months on the run with a close friend I made in Marigeoise, then went with him when he joined the Sun Pirates. I became an honorary member and sailed under his protection for over two years, at which point they agreed it was best to return me to my home island. I was returned home, and later found out the locals had called the Marines, leading to Fisher Tiger’s murder.”

It was nice, to say it so plainly, like a report. They couldn’t turn her in here.

“You’ve seen a great deal of the world, for someone so young. And you still wish to fight?”

“I can’t just live a normal life knowing they’re still out there hurting people, Sir. I’m a hard worker. I can cook, clean, and know the basics of fishman karate.”

“I don’t doubt your commitment. Or your bravery. Not only have you proved you could survive brutal training many adults do not as a child, you have broken free of that training in a way some never do. I am sure you’ll be able to do a lot of good with us.”

“Thank you, Sir.”

“Carver, if you could get Miss Koala situated while I take Hack’s report.”

Carver was quick to fill out Koala’s paperwork and pawn her off on an older girl named Dachs who excitedly gave her a tour. The whole place was brimming with life and intensity.

“It looks like you’re going to be in our room. Mac can seem intimidating, but she’s a sweetie.”

That was a little nerve wracking. She’d never had a friend her own age. Or a human friend. She just hoped she wouldn’t be too weird.

The wing Dachs led her to now was filled with teenagers, but it didn’t feel like Foolshout. Like the adults outside, they carried the same intensity as her.

“We finally have a fourth roomie, guys!” Dachs called into a room, and was greeted by a pair of cheers. Koala looked in nervously and blushed.

One of them looked like some sort of fairie, pale blue hair pinned up in delicate braids. Her clothing was practical, but tailored to show off her figure and she gave Koala a soft, gentle smile.

“Hello. It’s wonderful to meet you. I’m Fianna. That’s Rosomak, Mac for short.”

The other girl was kicked back on her bed, boots still on, shirt off as she carved into the bed above her with a dagger. Her grin was sharp.

“Hey.”

Fianna, still smiling, tried to subtly swat the girl’s head.

“This is why I keep saying you can’t just sit around half dressed.”

“If I’m fighting for freedom, I should get to be shirtless in my own damn room. If she can’t handle it, she can change rooms.”

“Mac would be the reason we keep ending up with an empty spot in our room. If she’s giving you trouble, just tell me or Fi.”

“Don’t worry about me,” Koala told Dachs. She bowed. “Hello everyone. I’m Koala. I’m twelve and I just joined. Please take care of me.”

“Ohmigosh,” Dachs muttered, “You’re so sweet. We’re so lucky. Anyway, I told you about me, but these are my roommates. They joined together. Fi’s studying with Moph. Moph’s the head of public relations.”

“Propaganda,” Rosomak added.

“Communication,” Fianna amended. “The Marines use the News Coo to push their view on things, we get out the truth.”

“Communication. Rosomak just, uh...”

“Kicks ass,” Fianna said with a smile.

“Yeah! What about you Koala? Can you fight?”

Dachs sighed.

“Mac, please don’t try and start a spar. She’s had a long journey.”

“I can though,” Koala said, not wanting to look like she needed protection, “but I’m supposed to work on the placement exam tonight.”

And, if she was going to live here, this room needed some serious cleaning. Mom made it sound like only boys were slobs, but even Fianna seemed to have more clothes in the hamper than the drawers.

“Ugh, just toss it in the bin. It’s a stupid test.”

“You say that,” Fianna said, though fondly, “because you still don’t want to learn how to read.”

“Yeah? I don’t need to fucking read.”

As her roommates settled into friendly bickering, Koala pulled out the practice test, and was delighted to see it started simple. It had been so embarrassing to be so behind on Foolshout, but here, they assumed nothing. Dachs had even mentioned she could read sections of the test to Koala if she couldn’t read it herself.

She wasn’t going to be one of the more advanced students, but at least nobody would laugh at her for still learning to read. 

“You gonna be a fighter then?” Mac asked, ignoring that Koala was clearly absorbed in work. “You should. I can tell you’ve got the build for it.”

“I don’t know. I want to be where I’ll do the most good.” She gave a shyer smile. “It would be fun fighting though. I used to get to, sometimes.”

Instead of pressing for details, Mac just pointed at Fianna.

“Ha! Suck it! Another for team kickass!”

Dachs swatted her over the head with some rolled up papers.

“Stop bothering the girl.”

Koala smiled at her test. They were weird, but she thought she’d feel safe sleeping here.

* * *

Haki wasn’t working. Puck had said that was normal, but it just wasn’t clicking.

“Sabo, why do you want to unlock Haki?” Puck asked him, looking tired.

“To be strong.”

“To?”

“To fight. To make a difference.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s right!” Sabo said. This was getting more irritating.

Puck sighed.

“Look, you’ve obviously got some sort of mental block, and that’s not my area. I’m sending this to my boss.”

“I, uh, I’m sure Ivankov has more important things to do,” Sabo said quickly. Dav’s attempts at therapy were bad enough, and Ivankov was… a personality. He’d only seen them a handful of times, but each one had stayed with him. He’d love to learn about poisons from them, but he absolutely did not want them to help with his ‘mental block’.

But Puck was merciless, and ten minutes later, Sabo had been deposited into Ivankov’s office. 

Ivankov looked them over with a brutal scrutiny Sabo was getting used to, strode over.

“So, you’re Dragon’s little future operative. I’ve heard a good deal about you- Oh, don’t give me that look. Of course I know. So you’re having some trouble with Haki, are you? Well we’ll have that fixed right away.”

It felt a bit like a threat.

“It’s not that big a deal...” Sabo lied. “I don’t want to interrupt your-”

“Nonsense. I always have time to guide a lost soul. It’s time for you to go on a journey inwards. Take a seat, boy. We’re going to use meditation to enter-” Ivankov swept their hands dramatically, trailing glitter. (How?) “the mindscape.”

“Yeah, I can’t sit still well anyways, so I can just-”

“You  _ are  _ an energetic one, but never fear. We will not be emptying our minds today. We shall be dreaming while awake! Don’t overthink it, just follow your heart! Sit down and close your eyes.”

Sabo did so with a huff, sinking into a comfortable cushion.

“Now, close your eyes and picture an island!”

Sabo tried for about half a second.

“This is kinda dumb,” he muttered.

“Well, if you don’t want to learn Haki...” they said, standing up to leave.

“Okay, okay!” Sabo squeezed his eyes shut. “Picturing!”

“Now this island,” Ivankov continued, “there are no other people. It’s somewhere you feel completely calm and safe. Think of the scent! The sounds! The ground under your feet!”

The jungle from Sabo’s dreams rose up in his mind, sunlight filtering through heavy green, making the ground freckled with golds and greens. The birdcalls of early summer, even though he knew it was winter right now, the almost cloying smell of jungle flowers and earthy rot.

His shoulders slumped in relaxation as he pictured walking through the jungle, how soft the moss was under his feet, how the air was so much heavier than the dry air of Baltigo.

“Now,” Ivankov said, voice dragging him back a bit, “picture a guide to walk you through the jungle. It doesn’t need to be a person, there are no limits here!”

A tiger would be cool, Sabo thought. Or a bird. Maybe a bauble of light. But he shouldn’t try and pick something cool, just relax and pick what felt right.

A boy, a bit younger than him. He didn’t dwell on giving them an appearance, but he knew they looked half feral, moved like part of the jungle, and smiled like a sunrise.

“Now follow them deeper into the island,” Ivankov was saying.

How would the child lead him? Take his hand? Run ahead and wait for Sabo to follow? 

Sabo’s imagination seemed to stutter. Neither of those were right. The child would-

_ Go away,  _ the child said.  _ I don’t want you here. _

Yeah. That’s what they would say.

_ Why not? _

_ You don’t belong here. You’re a stupid noble and you can’t even run. Go away. _

It was his own imagination. Sabo should be able to control it, but the image didn’t want to be re-written. He wasn’t welcome here. Now that he knew it, it felt like the whole island knew it, the trees pushing him out, the sunlight scorching. The plants were going to rot under his feet.

Ivankov was still talking, something about reaching the heart of the island, but Sabo shook his head.

“Boy, if you want to learn Haki, you can’t be so stubborn.”

“I’m not being stubborn. My guide wanted me to leave. You said I should go where it took me, and that’s where it took me.”

“Oh dear. I’m afraid that’s a very bad sign! Quite severe!”

“I just-”

Ivankov clapped their hands.

“Just kidding~! It’s excellent! We can hardly treat the disease if we can’t diagnose it after all! Tell me, what did your guide tell you?”

Sabo’s gut twisted. The whole thing suddenly felt very personal.

“Why’s it matter? It’s just stuff I made up. It’s like playing pretend.”

“Aha! But you can learn a good deal by how people play pretend! I asked you to picture a place that you feel relaxed and safe, and you automatically picture somebody telling you to leave. Now what did they say?”

Sabo blushed.

“Not telling.”

“Of course, of course. Your mind should be your own. Just tell me this, do you think what they said is true?” Ivankov’s voice was more even, no longer seeming to perform for an invisible crowd.

Was it? He was noble. He was injured. And, in his gut-  _ something behind the door, something worse than death- _

“Yes.”

“Well no wonder your will isn’t working! Boy, you can’t command Haki if you don’t feel you deserve it!”

Sabo stood up, kicking the chair a bit.

“How am I supposed to prove I deserve it if I can’t use it?”

“So you think only strength makes you worthy?”

“I’m not a baby. Nobles don’t care about what’s right. If I want to help people, I need to be strong.”

His bad leg was wobbling under him.

“Oh my, you are an onion of insecurities, aren’t you boy?”

He didn’t want to talk about this anymore. Were they really going to force him to lay out what a weak failure he was? He could already feel those damn overeager tears coming forward.

Thankfully, like a taciturn angel, Roga opened the door.

“I’m going to need my student back, Ivankov. He was supposed to meet me ten minutes ago.”

Ivankov’s attention was immediately off Sabo as they swept over to Roga.

“Roga, my stubborn artichoke flower, it’s lovely to see you.”

“If that’s all, Sabo?”

“Coming!” Sabo said hurriedly.

“So cold!” Ivankov sighed, “but that is your charm. Go on and take your duckling away. He’s made all the progress he’s going to. Sabo, when you’re ready to reclaim your island, come speak to me.”

“We’ll take our leave then,” Roga said.

“You know there’s always a place for you in my army, dear,” Ivankov told Roga. Roga made a vague noise of acknowledgement, hurrying them out.

Roga didn’t ask Sabo what he’d been talking to Ivankov about, just began to quiz him on various recent political marriages.

“Do you… not like Iva?” Sabo asked. Roga gave him a very tired look.

“They are a great asset to our campaign, and I’m glad so many have found happiness under their banner,” they said, “but they are… very loud. It doesn’t matter how many times I explain that my form of insurgency is not compatible with dance numbers... I suppose they feel that anyone who has, what was it, ‘unbound themselves from the chains of gender’ will be happiest with their lot, but they’re…. Very loud. Lots of parties.”

The way Roga said parties made it sound like they found any social gathering disgusting.

“Yeah,” Sabo agreed, thinking about his ‘journey into the mind’. But loud could be pretty fun, if he wasn’t supposed to talk about feelings and shit. Maybe he could sneak into one of their parties. “So what are we doing today?”

“Learning to fake cry.”

“Cool!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Roga is the type of person who was forced to go to one (1) Pride parade by their wife and loathed it. They just want to live in the woods, have a nice garden, and take down the government.


End file.
